


Lovely

by GoldenSun



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, Songfic, Suicide Attempt, this is just really depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenSun/pseuds/GoldenSun
Summary: Song fic of Lovely- By Billie Eilish & Khalid, but pertaining to the Dungeons and Dragons campaign my boyfriend and i have been playing together. loads of angst and mental health problems as per the song, but turned up to an 11.





	Lovely

_Thought i found a way…_

The infamous mercenary, Talon, Pyrra, lay broken on the battlefield, the leg on her left completely severed. Beside the pain, the gut wrenching, twisting, bleeding, screaming pain, there was peace. There was peace

_Thought i found a way out._

A young man, covered head to seemingly toe in tattoos loomed above her, curing and healing the major gash that left her left leg a several inch stump from the hip joint down. Something seems ruined, but Pyrra weakly kisses the man. It wasn't a thank you.

_But you never go away, so i guess i gotta stay now_

The first time Pyrra is alone, truly alone, she is uncontrolled, tears flow forth like a force of nature. Where is my peace. Where did my peace go.

_Oh I hope someday I make it out of here_

There is a violence pyrrha holds towards herself. She does not worry, does not hold caution, tho the boy in the tattoos scolds her for every burn, cut, and bruise she gets.  
Even if it takes all night,

_Even if it takes all night_

This has been the second day she had returned to her parents homestead, and the second time she had not slept. Most of the time she sat in the dark, eyes open but not looking. Not looking.

_Or a hundred years._

Pyrrha holds the knife up to her neck, sharp side dancing close to the scar tissue from her last attempt. There was peace. There is peace. She takes a deep breath, and exhales as she meets the eyes of her worried father.

_Need a place to hide but I can’t find one near_

She starts gardening, just to lie in the field of flowers, letting them cast shadows on her face as she looks up at the sky for hours, trance like. This was close to what it felt like.

_Want to feel alive, outside, i cant fight my fear_

She plays with the magickal border surrounding the farmstead, watching what kept in, in and out, out. She likes running her fingers just past the border, and watching the magic ripple like water in the air.

_Isn't it lovely?_

The entire morning is marked by the amount of tears shed. Cried for hours, cried blood freckles into her cheeks, then cried more. Balled up on her bed. There is noise outside

_All Alone._

She sits up only to regret it and falls back down on the cot, before peeling herself away again,

_Heart made of glass, Mind of stone_

Her crutches are on the other side of the room and it seems to much to get them. It is too much. But its achieved and she sneaks out of her small bedroom, into the living room of her childhood cottage, then to the back door, following the bellowing voice of her father shouting.

_Tear me to pieces, Skin to bone_

She makes her way to the border of the farm, where her father seems to be accosting someone into going away, in between asking how the figure before him even found the magickally hidden place. She places her hand on his shoulder and he turns, revealing who he was talking to. Pyrra feels her whole body sink.

_“Hello”_

Its Morning Star, Mor, for short. One of the few other mercenaries that survived long enough to earn a name and therefore a reputation. “Is this a friend of yours?” your father asks and you immediately shake your head no, and the tiefling frowns. He looks the same, same lilac skin, same horns, but he seems off. He looks sadder. Its just like pyrra. There is sadness

_Welcome Home_

* * *

  
_Walking out of time_

Pyrra walks through the tiefling encampment. It's a marvel Mor had done this, gotten her out of the house, out of bed, but the ache was there. She looks for the young priestess’ tent in a shanty town full of tents.

_Looking for a better place_

The dark purple tiefling priestess shoulders off her robes and pyrra almost forgets the ache as she presses her lips against hers. The priestess pulls her close and Pyrra can feel her body pressed against hers, there is warmth. Like there was before.

_Somethings on my mind_

There is nothing. Vacancy. Pyrra sits up in bed, shoulders slumped and heavy, as the priestess lays facing away from her, asleep. Mor is waiting for her outside as she makes it out of the tent.

_(you're) Always in my headspace_

Mor makes some sort of joke about Talons reputation, but the ache in pyrra only drowns him out.

_But I know someday I'll make it out of here_

There are screams from the other side of the camp and Mor jumps and runs in their direction. Pyrra debates going back into the priestess’ tent before following.

_Even if it takes all night or a hundred years_

Pyrra sees the werewolves over Mor’s shoulder, three of them, exactly. One of them, the one farthest away from them, pinning the local blacksmith, and two others, being barely contained by the tiefling camps hunters.

_Need a place to hide but i can't find one near_

Mor springs into action as Pyrra hesitates, taking his morningstar, now swirling with magic and buries it into the shoulder of the nearest wolf-being.

_Wanna feel alive, Outside, i cant fight my fear_

Pyrra tries to cast witchbolt on the one Mor is fighting, but the lightning goes sour and it the hit goes flying into nothingness.

_Isn't it Lovely_

Pyrra manages to psion bolt the wolf as Mor goes to sing at another werewolf, the two free ones seemingly closing in on the paladin

_All Alone_

Mor disengages from the wolf, turning to help the man pinned and surrounded on the battlefield. The werewolf snarls, and he misses with his morningstar as Pyrra prepares another witch bolt to the one closest to her.

_Heart made of glass, my mind of stone_

Her witch bolt connects to the werewolf nearest to her, lightning singeing the flesh and fur. The wolf retaliates by biting deep into her mid chest, taking her off her feet as the werewolf shakes its head and tears her flesh deeper and deeper.

_Tear me to pieces, skin to bone_

Pyrras body falls limply out of the werewolves mouth, she feels the ground meet her as she lands. A hand goes to her midsection and fingers glide over the teeth marks. Her vision is blurred but she sees Mor run and slide to her. She hears him call her name, but its late, a tiredness is taking her, and she closes her eyes.

_Hello,_

_Welcome home_

There is peace.

_Hello_

Pyrras eyes open to see Mor above her, eyes worried before suddenly transitioning to joy. He smiles down at her. But Pyrras eyes can't stop from forming tears.

_Welcome home_


End file.
